


sweats

by mjolnirdork



Series: Hatchetfield series: Xander/John soft prompts [1]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: Black Friday, Comfort, Domestic, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Starkid - Freeform, Xander/John, let them be happy, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjolnirdork/pseuds/mjolnirdork
Summary: they can't seem to stop steal-- sharing each other's stuff. neither thinks anything of it.
Relationships: Xander Lee/John McNamara
Series: Hatchetfield series: Xander/John soft prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734565
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	sweats

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a bunch of headcanons for xander and john and wanted to write them out! i'll credit the tumblrs as best as i can, this work is from ijustwantjohnmcnamaratobehappyok on tumblr, and i combined a couple of headcanons together. enjoy!

“Dismissed. Well done, Lee. You are clear to go,” Xander’s commanding officer informs him. With one hand, he gives him the discharge papers, with the other, he raises it in a snappy salute, nodding at him to leave.

Finally.

Xander returns the gesture, papers tucked under his arm as he steps out of the office, a grin spreading on his tired, thin face. His glasses catch the sun’s harsh gaze and darken, PEIP’s base baking in the heat. Around him, the troops unload and agents train, his own charges chattering their way to their quarters in weary triumph. He smiles. 

“Going home, sir?” Colonel Schaeffer steps up to him, a miniscule smile on her typically no-nonsense face.  
“Yes, Schaeffer, I am.”  
“And you deserve it, sir. Give my regards to the general?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“Tell him he has a damn fine husband who’s the pride and joy of this branch.”  
“Absolutely not.”  
Schaeffer smirks. “Worth a shot. I’ll see you later, sir.”

It’s been 3 months and a week on the Dimension355! mission, 3 months and a week offworld, off most society, and (most importantly) 3 months and a week without working beside John. That was probably the hardest part of taking the mission, but Xander’s glad he took it. Now he watches a colonel leave and feels a small prick of excitement at the thought of going home. 

John is gonna smile so hard when he comes home, he can’t even imagine how that will look like, so he does the only sensible thing to do: find an available car and head down to the small apartment complex just out of Clivesdale. Easier said than done with these people, but not entirely impossible.

His thumb absentmindedly strokes the scratched up rim of the steering wheel, soft metal playing at a volume only Xander can hear. It fades entirely as the car pulls into a stop into the parking lot. The keys sharply turn and pull out, and Xander pockets them absentmindedly before jogging into the lobby, up the elevator, and finally down the hall at the door closest to the stairs. He releases a long exhale, his cheeks tugging up in a grin as he unlocks the six undetectable locks he and John placed around the door when they first moved in together. The door finally gives way and he pulls off his shoes, walking around the flat as his bag hits the floor.

“John? John, I’m home!”

There’s no response.

Xander doesn’t think too much of this, the walls are thick and times of zoning out are frequent, so he shoots his husband a text and goes around the house checking the mail.  
At length he enters the kitchen, looking for an energy drink, but stopping midway to the fridge when he spots a haphazard pile of half-open books lying on top of each other, waiting to collapse to the floor entirely. Dust seems to have been collecting on them for a while.

“John,” he sighs. He walks over to the covered table, scooping up as many of the smudged volumes in his arms. He heads over to the shelf, looking for empty slots to push them into. 

“Xander?”

The word nearly makes him jump, he succeeds in having one of the books fall off instead. “John?”

“They didn’t tell me you got home!” John exclaims, his face breaking out into a laugh. Xander returns it, and he drops the books entirely, slamming John into the warmest hug possible. They share a soft, quick kiss that’s only broken because of laughing and hair-stroking. 

“How was the mission?” John asks.  
“I missed you,” Xander says at the same time.  
They simply laugh in response to the other. 

Xander gestures to the books scattered on the floor. “You on a binge read again?”  
“Oh, that’s where those went.” John bends down to pick them up.  
“No, John, they were all over the kitchen table when I came in. The shelf is right here.”  
“I know that. You didn’t lose the bookmarks, did you?” John stands up worriedly, flipping through two copies of The Devil’s Arithmetic at the same time, and it’s only then that Xander even notices anything, and it’s then that he wonders why he didn’t see it before now.

“Hey, John?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Is that my sweatshirt?”

John pauses. “Is what what what?”  
“My sweatshirt. On your person.”  
It takes John some time to respond, his nose is literally in the middle of both the books in his arms, but eventually it registers in his head and he looks up, nodding. “Oh. Yeah.”

“And that’s because…?” Xander waits bemusedly. “You did do the laundry recently?”  
“That’s exactly why I wore it.” John shrugs his shoulders in the oversized red plush Buzz Lightyear sweatshirt, smiling in spite of himself. “It’s so big. And red. And the attention to comfort is especially accurate.” His smile gets wider, as if that’s even humanly possible. “In short, Xander, I’m really fond of it.” 

Xander shakes his head, picking up the rest of the books and shelving it. “Who knew you were so soft, McNamara?”  
“You, probably,” Xander answers without a hint of thinking the question was rhetorical. “I missed you a lot, Lee. I’m glad you’re back home.” He closes the books in his arms and puts them on the shelf, then turns to wrap his arms around Xander. “God, I’m glad you’re home.”

Xander pats the red sweatshirt covering John’s arms, leaning into the hug. 

“Me too. Me too.”

It’s a minute like this before he finally adds, “This sweatshirt looks really nice on you.”  
“It’s yours, that’s why.”  
“Mmhm.”  
“You’re taking it off, besides.”  
“Mm. Mmhmm.”

Xander remembers all the moments he missed away, and he chuckles to himself.

This was worth it.


End file.
